Sonnet: Written in Exile

Because I find not whom to speak withal
Anent that lord whose I am as thou art,
Behoves that in thine ear I tell some part
Of this whereof I gladly would say all.
And deem thou nothing else occasional
Of my long silence while I kept apart,
Except this place, so guilty at the heart
That the right has not who will give it stall.
Love comes not here to any woman's face,
Nor any man here for his sake will sigh,
For unto such, " Thou fool!" were straightway said.
Ah! Master Cino, how the time turns base,
And mocks at us, and on our rhymes says " Fie!"
Since truth has been thus thinly harvested.
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Author of original: 
Dante Alighieri
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